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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26564155">Wild</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethevibeyouseek/pseuds/bethevibeyouseek'>bethevibeyouseek</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wentworth (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:00:58</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26564155</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethevibeyouseek/pseuds/bethevibeyouseek</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Bridget Westfall is a crisis response psychologist trained to take on anything. Well, almost anything.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Franky Doyle/Bridget Westfall</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Hunt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bridget couldn’t remember a time in her life that she had been so utterly nervous. Being new to the profession of counseling, she’d assisted on police cases numerous times in the middle of the night. Work was hard to come by for novice counselors, so she was stuck paying her dues until more stable positions made themselves available. In the mean time, she had gotten used to hearing Detective Jackson ringing her late at night to help in a crisis situation. Most were cases of shock in car accidents or domestic violence victims.<br/>
<br/>
“Ms. Westfall, I’m sorry to disturb you,” the New Zealand accent spoke with such concern in his voice. Detective Will Jackson had restored Bridget’s faith in the justice system. He was truly one of the good guys that they showed in movies, except Will was the real thing.<br/>
<br/>
“Will please, call be Bridget,” she smiled as she flipped on her bedside lamp. “What can I help with?”<br/>
<br/>
“I know it’s late, but I would really appreciate your help with a developing case,” Will sounded tired. Had he been working since morning? Bridget wondered.<br/>
<br/>
“Of course, I’m happy you thought of me. Would you like to text any records and I can review them now while I’m on my way?” she was already out of her bed and down the hall to quickly get ready for whatever was to come.<br/>
<br/>
“No records, it’s a long story. I was hoping you would be able to meet us down at the station as soon as possible.”<br/>
<br/>
“Let me get dressed, I’ll be there soon.”<br/>
<br/>
“Bridget, I suggest you wear something casual. No heels this time.”<br/>
<br/>
By the time Bridget had arrived, she was whisked away in Will’s patrol car and to the scene.<br/>
<br/>
“Want to tell me what’s going on now?” Bridget asked nervously. Normally Will had never been withholding.<br/>
<br/>
“We’ve reason to believe that there’s someone living in an abandoned cabin in the woods. We’ve gotten a few calls from hunters about unexplainable injuries. All from a bow.”<br/>
<br/>
“A bow and arrow? What are they Katniss Everdeen?” Bridget laughed.<br/>
<br/>
“They shattered someone’s knee cap Bridget,” Will quickly interrupted her attempt at humor.<br/>
<br/>
When the pair had arrived, the place was already surrounded with other officers waiting for the signal to proceed.<br/>
<br/>
“If you just come out with your hands up, no one gets hurt,” Vera Bennet was doing her best to coax the individual from the decrepit home.<br/>
<br/>
“Any progress?” Will asked as he approached his officers with a very petit Bridget trailing behind him.<br/>
<br/>
“Nothing. No movement at all. Are we even sure that they are in there?” Vera appeared to be weary. Bridget wondered how long she had been on the megaphone.<br/>
<br/>
“There’s no other point of entry aside. The citizen saw someone rush in and no one has come out,” Will explained.<br/>
<br/>
“How long have you been at this?” Bridget let curiosity get the better of her.<br/>
<br/>
“At least four hours of nothing.” Vera passed off the megaphone to Will.<br/>
<br/>
“We are going to give you one last chance to surrender yourself or we are going to have to come in. We’ll give you twenty minutes to decide,” Will stated firmly. Bridget noticed as the rest of the officers appeared to be suiting up for their inevitable raid.<br/>
<br/>
“Vera can you get Bridget a vest?” Will asked as he went over to the other officers to detail their plan. Bridget swallowed and pushed her fear back down.<br/>
<br/>
Sure enough, whoever was inside did not take their bait, so they were forced to proceed. The old cabin was absolutely still when they entered with guns drawn. Bridget did her best to keep herself from vomiting because of the overwhelming anxiety in her stomach. She was positioned safely in the middle of the officers since she wasn’t equipped with a gun. Slowly they all flashed their flashlights over every nook and cranny of the open living space only to find it empty. A couple officers proceed further to search the kitchen. The small space was like a scene from a horror movie. Sharp blades and bones picked clean littered every available surface. Bridget’s eyes went wide, fearing that they had surely walked into the hideaway of a serial killer. Hanging from the rafters were plucked feathers sewed into what appeared to be fishing lures.<br/>
<br/>
“Stay close,” Will muttered as they continued to investigate. The fireplace was nothing left but embers, and the small space was left cold without it. A bucket nearby contained what was most likely the only source of water, fetched from some other source. Bridget couldn’t believe that anyone would want to live in such conditions. Cautiously Will flagged two male officers to proceed down the hallway.<br/>
<br/>
“Police! Come out with your hands up!” One said into the empty space. Carefully they stepped further, their eyes searching every inch for the inhabitant.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re not going to hurt you, we just want to talk.” Will added as they continued further towards the corridor of the home. Silently the officers reached the room at the end of the hallway and entered with great caution. All things considered, the home was very well kept, minus all the bones. Bridget stayed a safe distance away, watching the crew work diligently. They continued further into the room and Bridget could see them carefully open the door to the closet.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ve got something! Freeze! Hands where we can see them!” An officer yelled with his gun pointed into the closet. “I said hands where I can see them!” He tried again.<br/>
<br/>
That’s when Bridget saw the frightened doe-like eyes staring up in absolute shock at the gun pointed in her direction.<br/>
<br/>
“I said-“ They yelled again, causing a tall, skinny woman inside to lunge forward in an attempt to fight back. She knocked the gun from his hand and it misfired loudly causing Bridget to scream. The woman ran out the door only to be caught by Will and the disarmed officer. They pushed her down to the floor with a thud. The blood-curdling scream that the young woman released made the hair on the back of Bridget’s neck stand on end. She tried with all her might to wrestle herself free from the clutches of the strong officers, but she was unable to. Tirelessly she tried to throw her elbow back until it connected with one of their faces. Sensing the blow, the woman tried to stand again, but was pressed further into the floor. Will pressed down on both her shoulders to immobilize her and she yelped again. Suddenly her eyes locked onto Bridget’s in a silent call for help as she scratched and kicked like a wild animal with it’s limb trapped in a snare.<br/>
<br/>
“Wait! Let her go!” Bridget commanded as they tried to keep her pressed to the ground. A stream of terror filled whimpers poured from her mouth as she collapsed against the floor, finally giving up. Her eyes never left Bridgets as she panted for air. Bridget carefully stepped closer. “Let her go and back away slowly.” She said again, but firmly as she carefully advanced closer.<br/>
<br/>
“Bridget-“ Will warned.<br/>
<br/>
“Just listen to me.” She snapped. Both men glanced at each other and released their grip on the girl before standing and backing away. The woman in question made no attempt to move, no doubt terrified of what would happen if she did. Bridget tiptoed towards the woman slowly. “Hey there, my name’s Bridget. I know you’re scared, but we’re not here to hurt you. Can you tell me your name?” The woman trembled and remained with her chest pressed to the dirty floor of the cabin. She made no attempt to respond to Bridget or gave any indication that she had understood what was being asked. Bridget then noticed a dirty bandage wrapped around the girl's shoulder.<br/>
<br/>
“Are you hurt?” She motioned towards her arm. “Can I see?” Bridget reached tentatively to touch the bandage, but once she had gotten too close the girl yelled out a warning. Bridget grabbed a water bottle and a few pieces of gauze from the first aid kit nearby.<br/>
<br/>
“I just want to help,” she held the supplies forward so the woman could see what she was holding.<br/>
<br/>
Somehow, she moved into a sitting position, allowing Bridget to crouch down in front of her. Her panting breath was the only sound in the cabin. Slowly Bridget reached forward and untied the dirty bandages. The woman hissed as she pulled the material away.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s been shot,” Bridget noted out loud as she saw the swollen bullet sized wound on her shoulder. Blood was still pouring out from it’s place. Bridget then realized that the paleness of her skin wasn’t because of her fear, but because of blood loss. “The bullet is still in there. She needs antibiotics and a hospital now,” The girl hissed in pain as Bridget prodded further. “We’re going to get you help, okay?” the psychologist smiled softly to the fearful woman.<br/>
<br/>
The crew then flew to work, sedating the terrorized woman and getting her settled into the back of the waiting ambulance. Bridget stayed close by, continuing to whisper her even words to soothe her. Just as Bridget was about to exit the ambulance, she felt a strong grasp on her wrist and a desperate whimper. The girl didn’t need to speak for Bridget to know what she was thinking. Stay, her green eyes begged.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll stay. I’m not going anywhere, alright?” Before Bridget could see her response, her eyes fluttered closed as she was overtaken by the strong medication coursing through her veins.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Jane</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bridget kept her promise and stayed. When they arrived at the hospital, the captured woman’s eyes flickered open at the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital wing. Bridget did her best to keep up with the hospital staff as they rolled her down the hallway towards the ER, but her short stature and heeled boots made it difficult to do so. She kept a reassuring touch on the woman’s forearm the whole way until she was finally stopped by a nurse. She and Will were escorted to a waiting room until she was removed from surgery. As the hours ticked by, Bridget found it increasingly difficult to keep her head from bobbing against Will’s shoulder. The detective had already dozed off against the stiff side of the waiting room chair with his arms crossed over his chest.<br/>
<br/>
Eventually both of them were stirred from their terrible slumber, and escorted towards the mysterious woman’s hospital room. Bridget noticed that she finally seemed to be at peace. She looked so different from the woman that they had captured hours before. Her blood stained clothes were stripped in favor of the light blue hospital gown.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s lucky that you found her when you did. She very well could have died due to infection.” The doctor overseeing the case stood in the hallway to give both Will and Bridget her report. Bridget had worked with Dr. Lawlor in the past with a patient of hers who had tried to die by suicide. She remembered how kind the doctor was with the sensitive nature of the situation all the while maintaining the patient’s dignity. Most doctors' bedside manner was atrocious, but hers was that of endless patience.   It was evident that the three of them would be spending a lot of time together as the case developed.<br/>
<br/>
“She tried to treat the wound herself, but likely passed out from the blood loss. There’s also evidence of a few previous sutures that she did herself on her legs. Some scarring along her arms, but it doesn’t appear to be self inflicted. I suspect it’s probably from some type of animal. All things considered for living off the grid for who knows how long, she’s in impeccable shape.”<br/>
<br/>
“More witnesses have come forward. She was out there for years. How on earth does anyone live like that?” Will shook his head in disbelief.<br/>
<br/>
“She can hunt,” Bridget reminded the detective. She couldn’t forget the grisly kitchen that screamed ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’. Looking in on the slumbering patient now it was hard to imagine her a killer when she looked so innocent.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s all muscle. No wonder she put up a fight against you.”<br/>
<br/>
“Explains my bruised ribs. I’ve never seen anyone try to run like that before.” Will touched his ribs at the memory of their raid. Nothing had gone according to plan, but at least no one had gotten seriously injured. He’d dealt with far worse than sore ribs before.<br/>
<br/>
“Fight or flight,” Bridget explained. She heard that scream still stuck in the back of her mind that made her spine cringe. It didn’t even sound human.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s a fighter alright. It took three units to knock her out completely, she was swinging at the anesthesiologist.” Bridget tried to hide her smile at the Doctor’s words just picturing it. She longed to know the full picture of the fighter that lay in the next room.<br/>
<br/>
“Any idea what she was doing out there?” the young psychologist asked, hoping the squad’s search had found any clues. Once she and Will had left, the rest of the squad had stayed to pick the cabin apart.<br/>
<br/>
“No clue. They haven’t found any personal belongings from the search,” Will shook his head.<br/>
<br/>
The clothes that they had found her in were men’s and much too large for her narrow form. Even the boots she was wearing were way gigantic. She’d stuffed rolled up socks into the toes to help them fit better. The more information that they uncovered, the more mysterious the woman turned out to be. </p><p>When the young woman came to, her eyes fluttered open and she was instantly on alert regardless of the sedatives being administered in her IV. Immediately she went to pull it from her hand, but found her injured arm immobilized against her body. A scared sound escaped her lips as she sensed that she was trapped. It was too feral to be considered a whimper.<br/>
<br/>
“Hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re safe. You’re in the hospital. The doctors put you under anesthesia to remove the bullet from your shoulder. Your arm is in a splint now until it heals. You’re not in trouble or danger.” Bridget instinctively reached forward to try to comfort the woman with her hands, but immediately corrected herself. Touch was the last thing that she needed. Sure, she’d requested it in the ambulance ride, but that memory was probably long gone from the woman’s mind after her propofol trip. Bridget remembered that her voice seemed to help ease her fear, so she tried again.<br/>
<br/>
“My name is Bridget. Do you remember me?,” She smiled reassuringly. She noticed that the color had returned to the once pale visage of the brunette’s face. The olive tone was offset by her large green eyes. Although they appeared hazy now, all Bridget could see was how wide they were with terror back in the cabin. She shivered at the memory. Focus, Bridget.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re probably still feeling a little groggy, yeah? Can you tell me your name?” Bridget asked softly. She was met with silence. Perhaps a little more self-disclosure would help her talk. “I’m a psychologist, not a cop. I just want to help you, alright?” Instead she stared blankly, her mouth in an unimpressed scowl.<br/>
<br/>
“Maybe you could write it down?” Bridget held out the pen and paper for her to scroll on. If she was too scared to speak, maybe she could write instead? The brunette looked down at it briefly, but made no attempt to pick it up. Her piercing green eyes were back on Bridget’s once again, unblinking. The intense gaze was rattling her otherwise impenetrable game face.<br/>
<br/>
“Can you understand what I’m saying?” Maybe… Bridget thought. She grabbed a language chart from her bag and set it beside her on the bed. They’d used it in crisis situations with unresponsive people. More often than not, victims were not disobeying the law because they felt rebellious, but because they didn’t speak the same language and couldn’t understand what was being asked of them. Bridget set it gentle on the edge of the bed on top of the pen and paper. The chart read “Hi, I speak…” in every language known to man. If she could just point, perhaps they could find a translator or-<br/>
<br/>
She watched the woman pause to look at the words momentarily, but then she pushed the chart, the pen, and the paper all onto the floor with a loud thud. She gave Bridget one more lingering glance before she turned to lay on her uninjured side. With her back towards Bridget, she completely closed off from the conversation. She curled into herself like a protective shell from the outside world. Bridget interpreted it as a huge but silent, 'Screw you.’<br/>
<br/>
“You rest. Are you hungry?” She asked hoping that the offer of food could potentially give her even the tiniest hints of comprehension. Nothing. “I’ll see about getting you something to eat.” Bridget stood and exited the room quietly.<br/>
<br/>
“How is she?” Will asked from his position from the small window of the room. He knew that she had little to no reason to trust him, so he was keeping his distance from the patient. His sore ribs were enough of a warning as well as Officer Fletcher’s black eye.<br/>
<br/>
“She’s completely unresponsive. Are we sure she isn’t deaf?” Bridget reached for the medical chart on the outside of the door.<br/>
<br/>
“Scans checked out fine,” Will stopped her.<br/>
<br/>
“Will, I’m out of my depth. I think she needs someone with extensive trauma training. I’m afraid she might be in shock.” Bridget was exhausted, physically and mentally. She knew that she was far too new to handle what was being asked of her. She would much rather admit her limitations than provide improper care to the woman for her ego’s sake. Rule number one that she had learned in school, accept your limitations, and when in doubt, refer, refer, refer.<br/>
<br/>
“But she trusts you,” Will countered. She knew that the Detective's reasoning seemed sound to him, but he didn’t understand the inner workings of what he was actually asking of Bridget. Bridget who had just passed her state boards. She still had nightmares about the DSM-5. There was so much going on in the woman’s case, that she would never be able to figure out a proper diagnosis herself. So much in the field of psychology came with experience, and that she was sorely lacking.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m happy to be her advocate, but I am not equipped to treat her. She needs a professional with more experience, not a novice still completing their internship hours. Let me make some calls, alright?” Bridget said, reaching for her cell phone to begin reaching out to her superiors.<br/>
<br/>
“Did you get a name?” Will asked. Bridget shook her head as she looked through the window again.<br/>
<br/>
“Jane Doe it is,” Will sighed.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you so much for reading! Your comments and critiques are always welcome! </p><p>Note: I do not have trained experience as a medical or psychological professional...I have google. </p><p>Hopefully you're liking this one! It's a really big stretch from the norm with novice psychologist Bridget!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Captivity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Numerous psychologists claiming expertise severe trauma were called, but no one lasted long enough to form a meaningful connection with Jane. It was evident from her interactions that she had an aversion to men. Any man who tried to enter her room was immediately met with whatever object lay close to her. More often than not it was an untouched lunch tray. It had to have been days since she’d eaten. The only person who fared worse was Detective Jackson. His presence was met with verbal warnings as well despite his best efforts to make peace. Her scream was bone chilling to say the least. Bridget couldn’t help but pity the detective, but she understood Jane’s logical reaction. Hopefully with time she’d see that he was truly one of the good guys and was hell bent on finding a way to help her. Even the women had difficulty gaining her trust. At least they didn’t leave covered in mashed potatoes.<br/>
<br/>
Bridget visited most days after her shifts at the University clinic and more often than not, Detective Jackson was already there close, but not too close. In her free time Bridget researched anything she could find on cases similar to Jane’s. ‘Wolf’ children, they were called. Children who were raised in isolation without the influence of society. But <em>someone</em> had to know that she was out there. None of it seemed to make any sense. Her interactions with others were so uncomfortable it was hard to imagine that she’d ever led a normal life. She appeared to be more animal than girl.<br/>
<br/>
Bridget had taken to reading out loud to her, hoping that more exposure to language would help the wordless woman trapped in the recesses of her mind. Hopefully it would help her access language. Bridget just longed to be able to truly speak and connect with her. Jane would do just about anything to scare off visitors from her sacred space. But for some reason when Bridget would read, her only reaction was to sit cross-legged in front of the room’s long windows and stare at the courtyard full of trees below.<br/>
<br/>
That particular day when Bridget arrived, she watched through the observation windows as another language expert was attempting to get her to repeat letters of the alphabet that they were overly pronouncing with comically loud facial expressions. They’d tried to get her to write, but her blank stare could make even the most highly trained professionals squirm. Now they had resorted to using alphabet blocks borrowed from the pediatric wing.<br/>
<br/>
“Can you say the letter B with me? Like this: buh, buh, buh, beeeee,” the woman tried again to get any verbal response from Jane sitting cross legged before her. Hell, she was even signing the alphabet. <em>Anything</em> to try and get <em>something</em> out of the mute and stoic woman. Unexpectedly, Jane swiped all of the blocks of letters onto the floor loudly without breaking eye contact. The speech path jumped and was out the door in moments, leaving Jane alone once again. Bridget sighed and entered the room in her wake.<br/>
<br/>
“If you keep scaring them off, there’ll be no one left to help you, Jane,” Bridget spoke honestly as she kneeled down to pick up the fallen letters. She figured calling her Jane was better than nothing at all. Or as Will had begun to refer to her, GI Jane, privately of course. They’d pulled the cabin apart to find it armed with hunting knives, axes, saws, and other terrifying survival paraphernalia. But missing was the one weapon which they were searching for; the bow.<br/>
<br/>
Bridget busied herself with picking up the blocks and depositing them back on the table. She crouched with her back towards Jane, even though she knew most everyone else would admonish her for her cavalier attitude towards the trained assassin. She’d met some of the victims of Jane’s attacks dating back several years, all victims of the bow. How long had she been hiding? The most recent was a man in a wheelchair while dozens of pins healed his shattered kneecap. She figured he'd most likely be responsible for lodging the bullet in Jane’s shoulder. But Jane didn’t appear to act unless provoked, so what had the man done to cause her to strike him in the first place? Bridget wasn’t afraid, regardless of the woman’s violent capabilities. They hadn’t seen her fearful green eyes. They hadn’t seen the way her hand clutched her arm desperately inside the ambulance. The strange bond they formed superseded any potential fear. By the time Bridget had gathered all of the fallen block letters, she rose to her heels once more and noticed Jane had silently moved some of the blocks into a straight line facing Bridget.<br/>
<br/>
‘<em>Fuck them</em>’, she had spelled out much to the Bridget’s surprise.<br/>
<br/>
And much to Jane’s, the petite blonde laughed loudly. The brunette stared back, confusion painted over her brow.<br/>
<br/>
“So you can understand us afterall. Guess that makes all of this seem kind of childish, doesn’t it?” Bridget motioned to the blocks in front of them.</p><p>‘<em>Yep</em>’ Jane spelled in response.</p><p>“Are you able to speak?”<br/>
<br/>
Jane motioned with her chin to the same word once more for her response,<br/>
<br/>
‘<em>Yep’</em><br/>
<br/>
“Can you tell me your real name Jane?” Bridget pressed the slightest bit forward. Bridget held her breath as she watched her reach for the blocks once more. Slowly she spelled out one last word before standing and walking towards the windows to gaze longingly at the trees once more. Bridget leaned forward, her heartbeat throbbing in her chest.</p><p>‘<em>Home</em>’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you for reading! Comments and constructive feedback is always welcome!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>And so began their routine, Bridget would ask, Jane would spell. Albeit limited conversations, it was leagues above where they had started. And sure enough, when they’d pushed her too far, she’d spell the one word she longed for most,</p><p>
  <em>Home</em>
</p><p>Unexpectedly, Bridget had been pulled away from the hospital, having been called to help with disaster relief from the wildfires. She was exhausted after a week away helping those who had lost everything except their lives. When the displaced victims had been properly supported through their crisis and referred to long-term treatment to see them through, she was sent home. The following day was supposed to be her recovery day, but she felt pulled towards the hospital. Having been away for so long with very little updates from Will, she felt compelled to go and see Jane. After a quick breakfast, Bridget grabbed the first book off her shelf and dashed for the door.<br/>
<br/>
When she’d arrived there was a commotion from outside as she approached. Will was comforting what was likely another one of Jane’s unsuspecting victims. Will caught sight of Bridget out of the corner of his eye. Even from a distance Bridget could see his sigh of relief.<br/>
<br/>
“You’re back,” Will noted.<br/>
<br/>
“What’s going on?” Bridget skipped the bullshit.<br/>
<br/>
“That psycho just attacked me out of nowhere!” The resident grabbed his chest as he gasped for air. Bridget wasn’t able to recognize him, so he must have been very new. “I just went to check her splint that was all-“<br/>
<br/>
“Jane doesn't respond well to men, surely you were able to gather that from reading her charts.” Judging by his silence, he hadn’t even cracked open the chart in his hand before entering the room. Bridget cocked an eyebrow. “You didn’t even read the chart before entering a new patients room? Are you sure you’re allowed to be here?” Normally she wasn’t so harsh, but something was causing her to be fiercely protective of the woman screaming from the other room.<br/>
<br/>
“I-I’m sorry. We just divided the charts and-”<br/>
<br/>
“There you are!” Dr. Lawlor ran down the hall hearing the commotion.<br/>
<br/>
“Just throwing your new residents into the line of fire now?” Bridget snipped once more.<br/>
<br/>
“Dr. Fischer, I believe you have the wrong chart.” Even out of breath Bridget and Will could sense her anger. “You aren’t even in the right wing.” She hastily grabbed Jane’s chart and thrust his proper one towards his chest. The terrified man left in a flash with a muttered apology. “I’m so sorry-”<br/>
<br/>
Bridget didn’t stay to listen to the rest of Dr. Lawlor’s explanation. Now that the threat was gone, she needed to see the damage his ignorance had caused. Bridget prayed that she wouldn’t regress and lose any of the little progress they had made. She entered the room to find Jane throwing anything she could get her hands on towards the floor length windows; pillows, water cups, blocks. And the piercing scream was back.<br/>
<br/>
“Jane, you’re safe here and no one is going to hurt you.” Bridget tried to bring her down from her episode carefully. She’d never seen her rage progress to this level before. The psychologist knew that she had to proceed cautiously. The last thing she wanted was to be on the receiving end of her anger, accidental or otherwise.<br/>
<br/>
Jane stopped instantly when she heard the light tone of Bridget’s calming voice. When she turned, the psychologist could see the trail of angry tears streaming down her face. She dropped her arm and let the now empty breakfast tray fall gently to the floor. The two stood frozen, eyes connected.<br/>
<br/>
It was Jane who finally moved first. She gathered the blocks with one hand and brought them to the table, dropping them loudly in a pile. She sat down, motioning for Bridget to join her. The blonde sat slowly and waited for her cues from the panting woman in front of her.</p><p>After a moment of the penetrating stare, Jane grabbed for the blocks.</p><p>
  <em>‘Gone’</em>
</p><p>She spelled haphazardly, and then leaned back against her chair with her uninjured arm crossed over her chest. Bridget had been so focused on the job at hand, she hadn’t considered that her absence could be seen as abandonment. “You’re right. I was gone.” Bridget nodded. She wondered if an explanation would mean anything to Jane.</p><p>
  <em>‘Why’</em>
</p><p>“I had to go work with some of the wildfire survivors for my job. I work with a crisis response team.” Bridget watched the cogs turning over in Jane’s mind as she took in the information. “Did you think I left for good?”</p><p>
  <em>‘Yes’</em>
</p><p>The brunette’s were glued to the table. Bridget’s heart broke in her chest imagining Jane waiting for her to walk through the door. Each time another professional entered that wasn’t her, the despair grew. The poor doctor had been the last straw to set her over the edge. Although she wasn’t sure she actually deserved Jane’s trust, she had it.<br/>
<br/>
“Jane, would you look at me please?” Bridget asked softly. Slowly the teary green eyes rose to meet hers. “I’m very sorry that I left without explaining. I know that must have been confusing and scary. I promise that if I have to leave again, I will tell you first.” Her words were slow and sincere. The two sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes. Bridget could see Jane thinking about something. What she wouldn’t give to know what was going on in her mind.<br/>
<br/>
Jane hesitated with her hand over a few of the other blocks. Blowing her breath out of her mouth, she began to spell again. She dragged the letter Y down from the word ‘yes’ and placed it at the end of a new word and pushed it to face Bridget.<br/>
<br/>
“Franky?” Bridget spoke softly. She had a name.<br/>
<br/>
She nodded softly for the first time. Bridget smiled, but kept her body calm. Inside, she was doing cartwheels. She could only imagine what the rest of the team was doing on the other side of the window.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s nice to meet you, Franky. Thank you for trusting me,” Bridget smiled softly.</p><p>
  <em>‘Sure Gidget’</em>
</p><p>Bridget smiled and carefully replaced the G with the letter B.<br/>
<br/>
“It’s Bridget,” she reminded her. The first time she’d introduced herself Franky had been pumped full of meds. It wouldn’t have been any surprise if she’d misheard her. Franky nodded, but switched the letters back again, and she tapped the letter G for good measure. Bridget giggled and accepted her nickname. “Gidget it is.” Franky nodded again, her lips curled up into a soft smile.<br/>
<br/>
“What happened with the doctor earlier?” Just as quickly as it came, Franky’s smile was gone. She exhaled through her nose and spelled the word,</p><p>
  <em>‘Stupid’</em>
</p><p>“He’s stupid? Is that why you got upset?”<br/>
<br/>
She shook her head.<br/>
<br/>
“Did he call you stupid?” The psychologist tried again.<br/>
<br/>
She shook her head again, frustrated and searched the blocks for what she wanted to say next. She sighed and pushed them away, giving up. Bridget leaned back slightly, accepting that she had pushed far enough for one day.<br/>
<br/>
“I’m not stupid. I just don’t like stupid questions.” She whispered firmly. Bridget froze, processing slowly what had just happened. She wasn’t sure what she expected her voice to sound like. She spoke with a distinct Australian accent, putting to rest a number of their theories. She could speak, and she could spell. She had been a part of society at one point.<br/>
<br/>
“I know you’re not stupid, Franky. It takes a lot of intelligence to survive the way you did.” Bridget knew she had to tread lightly.<br/>
<br/>
“Not that hard,” Franky shrugged.<br/>
<br/>
“How long were you out there like that?” Franky shrugged again, her agitation growing more and more apparent.<br/>
<br/>
“We’re just trying to help you Franky,” Bridget spoke honestly. Franky leaned forward over the table as if she was ready to finally open up.<br/>
<br/>
“You want to help me?” Franky whispered and bit her lip. She reached out and touched Bridget’s forearm gently.<br/>
<br/>
“Yes,” Bridget nodded and delicately placed her hand over Franky’s.<br/>
<br/>
“You can help me by getting me the fuck out of here.” Before Bridget could open her mouth to respond, Franky’s touch was gone and she was sitting back in front of the window. Bridget sighed and walked towards the door.<br/>
<br/>
“I’ll see what I can do, okay?” She said tentatively towards Franky’s back. Defeated, she turned to leave.<br/>
<br/>
“Thanks, Gidget,” Franky murmured just before the door closed. Bridget smiled. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.<br/>
<br/>
At least she had a name.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After Franky’s big reveal, the next week proceeded slowly with little to no progress. When she wasn’t sleeping or picking at the hospital food with her hands, Franky was sat cross legged looking out the window. She spent hours staring dreamily at the trees in the courtyard below. Bridget knew she was longing to be back home. As hard as she tried to get Franky to open up again and use her voice, she appeared to have nothing new to say.<br/><br/>Will had directly forbidden any field trips for the foreseeable future. Not until they’d gotten more information on who Franky was, because they already knew what she was capable of. They’d scanned all available databases on missing people, even her creepily stoic intake photo didn’t register anything. It was as if Franky didn’t exist in the outside world.<br/><br/>But she did exist. She existed to Bridget. If what you could call what she did existing. Bridget continued to read to her each day, hoping for even a few audible words. She was lucky if she even got a sad smile upon her entrance and exit. One evening as she was about to leave, she closed the book and leaned over to place it into her bag. Franky reached with her good hand out towards her, palm facing the ceiling. Confused, Bridget turned her head in a silent question.<br/><br/>“Please?” Franky whispered as she pointed towards the book. Tentatively Bridget held it out to her. Franky took it carefully and opened it up to the last page they had just finished reading. Bridget watched on as she read with her legs crossed and her head resting on her hand like it was the most natural thing in the world.<br/><br/>“I’ll bring some more tomorrow, if you’d like,” she offered, hiding her shock. Again, she was greeted with the same sad smile.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When Bridget returned the next afternoon, it was with a sack full of various titles from her shelves. She had no idea what level Franky’s reading comprehension was, so she did her best to pick a wide variety of difficulties and topics. She leaned heavily towards anything involving nature, figuring it would be a favorite of the captive woman.<br/><br/>The bloodstained clothes that they had found her in were mens and several sizes too large for her thin frame. The hospital had switched them out for grey sweats and sweatshirts, but any chance she had to pull the ratty flannel back on, she would. It was her only last tie to her home. On a whim Bridget had the officers bring the remaining items of clothing they’d found in the cabin to the hospital. Thankfully they hadn’t been incinerated. Once they were laundered, the officers were instructed to bring them in with the sack of books and set them on the bed. Franky had gotten tired of her usual display of hatred towards others, or maybe she was just immune to people walking into her room. Bridget wasn’t sure if she should be concerned or happy to not hear her screams anymore. After a moment of hesitation, Franky inspected the bags. Spotting her familiar clothes, she immediately began to change into them before the officers even had a chance to leave the room. It was evident she had little understanding of privacy.<br/><br/>“You know if she wasn’t a moron, she’d be pretty hot,” she overheard one of them say. Officer Stewart, Bridget thought she’d heard him called.<br/><br/>“Would a moron be able to fire an arrow into someone's knee cap from nearly sixty meters? Show some bloody respect.” Bridget snapped. She was too distracted in her rage to notice the tiny smile appear on Franky’s downward cast face. Bridget kept her back turned as Franky dressed herself. Once she was finished, the brunette had settled back down in front of the window where she’d now dragged her blanket and pillow. Bridget's heart sank in her chest. Was she now sleeping on the floor?<br/><br/>“Feeling better?” Bridget smiled. Franky looked so much more comfortable in the worn red flannel. She nodded with a slight grin on her face.<br/><br/>“I brought you some more books too,” Bridget added as she approached Franky with the sack of books. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I just grabbed a bit of everything.” Intrigued, she began to peak through the titles and worn pages of Bridget’s novels.<br/><br/>“Thank you,” she whispered in awe. “For all of this.”<br/><br/>“It’s good to hear your voice again. Maybe you can read to me for a change,” Bridget teased. Before she knew what was happening, Franky had settled against the window and opened one of the new novels and began to read aloud. As if it was the most natural thing in the world. As if she hadn't spent the last month completely silent or communicating through children's blocks. Bridget stood paralyzed for a moment, then her eyes shot towards the door where Will was witness to the events taking place. Bridget slowly sank to the floor and allowed Franky to continue.<br/><br/>Slowly Bridget was hypnotized by the melodic tones of Franky’s voice as she read with relative ease. Occasionally, she would pause at words trying to figure them out herself. When she was stumped, she’d look up to Bridget for help in a silent plea for help. They went on for several chapters, until Franky’s eyes and voice grew too tired to continue.<br/><br/>“Your turn,” Franky passed the book over with a yawn.<br/><br/>“I wish I could, but I need to get going. Tomorrow maybe?” Franky nodded, trying to hide her sigh but failing. The best hours of her life were spent next to the petite blonde. The rest were just...waiting for her to come back. “Hey, where’d you go there?” Bridget leaned down to catch Franky’s distant eyes.<br/><br/>“I’m bored, Gidget. I hate it here,” Franky’s voice cracked with sadness. She longed to feel the breeze on her skin. Sleeping on the floor allowed her to pretend she was back outside on her porch, content to fall asleep in the open air. Inside the hospital, the air just felt stale.<br/><br/>“I know. If you could open up and talk to your counselor, even just a little bit-” Bridget knew she was probably getting close to pushing her luck.<br/><br/>“Then will they let me out of here?” Franky would do anything to be able to get outside, even if it meant opening up to a stranger. Even if it was someone else besides Gidget.<br/><br/>“It might help.” Bridget prayed that her words would get through. After a moment of deliberation, Franky continued.<br/><br/>“Okay...but what do I say?”<br/><br/>“Just be honest, like you are with me. Just tell what happened.”<br/><br/>“See, now that’s the problem,” Franky pushed the books away in a huff.<br/><br/>“What? Why?” Bridget’s eyebrows creased in confusion. Where had that sudden irritation come from?<br/><br/>“Because I don’t remember."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Somehow, by some miraculous act of god, or miraculous act of Bridget Westfall, Franky began to talk. Although Bridget wasn’t privy to all of the conversations she had with her new regular counselor, there were some details that Franky would offer up willingly between the two of them.<br/><br/>
“Have we considered letting her go outside?” asked Franky’s newly-appointed psychologist. Bridget had searched the mental health community for anyone that Franky could connect with. It had taken weeks of searching, but she had finally found someone.  Granted, Liz Birdsworth wasn’t the most highly trained professional nor did she have dozens of accolades, but she provided exactly what Franky seemed to need: A firm yet gentle hand. Bridget cocked her head in Will’s direction as Liz’s question hit the air as if to say, ‘I told you so’.<br/><br/>
“What if she runs?” Will asked with his arms crossed over his broad chest.<br/><br/>
“She won’t,” Bridget spoke with unshakable confidence. “Think about it Will. She went from spending almost all of her time outside to being trapped in here like a prisoner. It’s no wonder she’s so withdrawn.”<br/><br/>
Will sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew sooner or later Franky’s luck would run out. He was doing his best to keep her out of the system and serving time in prison for assault with a deadly weapon. She was looking at a three to five year stretch but it was proving nearly impossible considering she would immediately shut down anytime Will was in Franky’s line of sight.<br/><br/>
“Alright, fine, you can take her outside. But just within the courtyard. Supervised. We can’t risk her running for the highway,” he finally relented.   </p>
<p>	Bridget had hardly been able to contain her excitement as she brought the plain pair of canvas shoes into Franky’s room and set them on the edge of her bed as she read quietly.<br/><br/>
Franky glanced at them briefly before her eyes flashed up and connected with Bridget’s, her furrowed brow was back once more. Even though Bridget had heard her speak, Franky still preferred to let her facial expressions do the talking instead. And damn if they weren’t expressive. <br/><br/>
“Put these on. I know it won’t be like being at home, but Detective Jackson has agreed to let you come outside into the courtyard,” Bridget smiled brightly. She had expected Franky to jump up and dash for the door at the first opportunity to leave her cage like a golden retriever puppy...but she didn’t move. In fact, she had the exact opposite reaction that Bridget was expecting. She settled into an even more relaxed position in her bed as her eyes turned back to her book.<br/><br/>
“‘M good, thanks,” the brunette mumbled as she turned the page. Bridget scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest with her hip cocked.<br/><br/>
“Do you have any idea how long it took us to convince them to let you out, Franky? Your arrow put a man in a wheelchair for the foreseeable future! You are lucky that you aren’t handcuffed to your bed night and day! Especially considering how you have behaved to everyone who has tried to help you, myself included,” Bridget finally snapped, her control on her temper wavering. Sensing this, Franky quickly softened, closing her book and sitting up with her legs hanging off the side of the bed.<br/><br/>
“Thank you,” Franky whispered. Miffed, Bridget turned to walk towards the door, but Franky quickly grabbed for her hand. “I’m sorry, Gidget.” She said clearly, giving Bridget’s hand two squeezes before letting it go and reaching for the shoes.<br/><br/>
The two walked in silence towards the courtyard doors, Franky’s free hand hidden in the safety of her oversized sleeve, her other still secured safely in her splint. Franky hadn’t realized how small Bridget was until they walked side by side. She did notice that Bridget, who normally wore fancy high heels, had switched out the swanky shoes for a more sensible pair of flats.<br/><br/>
The automatic doors slid open into the courtyard, and a rush of fresh air hit Franky’s face for the first time in months. She stepped out slowly, then quickly slipped off her shoes until her bare feet connected with the grass underneath. Bridget stayed back, giving the captive woman as much space as she needed.<br/><br/>
Franky’s eyes closed and she breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with the fresh air. It didn’t smell like the crisp cabin air she was used to, but it was better than the stale air conditioning her hospital room provided.<br/><br/>
Bridget sensed that what Franky needed at that moment in time was space, and lots of it. She’d been living under a microscope after years and years of solitude, it was no wonder she’d been behaving the way she had. It was instinctual. Bridget gave her as much distance as she could to explore the small courtyard. Eventually Franky settled on one of the wooden benches and nodded at Bridget. Bridget walked over and took the seat next to her. She immediately noticed that Franky’s normally hard face had softened significantly. The crease of her brow was relaxed and the corners of her lips turned upwards into an almost smile.<br/><br/>
“Thank you,” Franky whispered, finally breaking the silence. “For all of this.”<br/><br/>
“I know that things have been difficult the last few months.”<br/><br/>
“I feel like I’m living in a zoo.”<br/><br/>
“I know and I’m sorry… Detective Jackson, he really is a one of the good ones.”<br/><br/>
“Does he normally break into people’s homes and point a gun at them or am I just lucky?” Franky rolled her eyes, a new skill she seemed to have mastered expertly.<br/><br/>
“Franky, I don’t want to upset you, but Detective Jackson is just trying to do his job,” Bridget knew that the clock was ticking. They no longer had the luxury of tiptoeing around Franky’s temperamental state. Without any new leads on her background, it was only a matter of time before the law finally caught up with her.<br/><br/>
“So you’re defending him?” Franky scoffed. “I can't believe this! I trusted you!”<br/><br/>
“He’s trying to get you out of serving time.”<br/><br/>
“Time?”<br/><br/>
“In jail.”<br/><br/>
“For what?”<br/><br/>
“Franky, you almost paralized a man,” Bridget said, trying to tread lightly on the delicate subject.<br/><br/>
“I was just defending myself!” Franky stood abruptly and ran her hand across her lips in thought. Suddenly all of the pieces clicked inside Franky’s mind. Her forced solitude wasn’t a punishment, but it could very well turn into that if she didn't start offering up an explanation.<br/><br/>
“I know. I know that you would never intentionally hurt someone without some type of provocation. If you could just open up and tell  Detective Jackson what happened. He is really just trying to help you, we all are.”<br/><br/>
“So I talk and then what happens? I get to go home?”<br/><br/>
“It’s a start, yes.” </p>
<p>When dusk finally settled over the quiet space, Bridget and Franky were forced to head back inside. Detective Jackson had been observing them from his post by the courtyard door.<br/><br/>
"Thanks Detective Jackson, I really needed that," Franky spoke to the man for the first time, her eyes even rose to meet his briefly before flickering back down to the linoleum floor.<br/><br/>
"...You're welcome Franky,” Will smiled softly, doing his best to hide his shock.<br/><br/>
"Will I be able to go out again tomorrow?"<br/><br/>
"We'll have to discuss that with your team."<br/><br/>
"Oh.. Okay.” Franky nodded. “Well, thanks again," Franky turned to enter her room.<br/><br/>
"Wait a second, Franky..” Franky stopped as Will formulated his thought. “Would you tell me what happened, if I let you go outside more?”<br/><br/>
Franky bit her bottom lip and paused in consideration.<br/><br/>
“Are they going to arrest me?” Bridget and Will watched as Franky’s eyes welled with tears. They weren’t the usual kind, filled with rage, instead they were full of fear.<br/><br/>
“Not if I can help it.”<br/><br/>
Franky nodded silently and entered her room without a sound.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This is gonna be a bumpy ride! Comments/critiques are always appreciated!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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